


Which Concerns the Bear Lord's Daughter

by Untherius



Series: Co-Sovereignty [6]
Category: Emberverse - S. M. Stirling, Howl Series - Diana Wynne Jones, Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides (2011)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Mermaids, Metamorphosis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-04
Updated: 2012-08-04
Packaged: 2017-11-11 10:31:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/477588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Untherius/pseuds/Untherius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike Havel's daughter is dying of a mysterious illness.  His only hope lies with people who shouldn't even exist and the price is something he never imagined he'd ever have to pay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Larsdalen  
March 9, CY 9, 2021 AD

Mike Havel charged up the interior stairs of his home. He was barely aware of his armor as it clanked, its noise drowned out by the blood pounding in his ears. The fear welling up within him was just as intense as what he felt in battle, only entirely different. That which he felt for his child was much, much worse. He was even less aware of the several sets of footsteps following him, or of the protestations by Pamela toward whomever was also there.

He rounded the corner and practically skidded into Mary's room. His eyes—and the rest of him--went straight to his daughter lying unconscious in her bed. He knelt down, still not bothering to even remove his helm.

“Mike,” began Aaron Rothman, whom Mike had barely noticed sitting on the other side of the bed.

“Yeah,” said Mike, still not taking his eyes off his daughter, “Pam told me.”

“I...look, aside from a pre-Change trauma unit, I can't tell you anything that would kill her faster. Even if Signe comes through that door at this very moment, and even if whomever she brings knows exactly what to administer and does it right now....”

Mike looked up at him without a word, a lump rising in his throat.

“You've done a lot for me and if I could trade my life for hers, you know I would. But...she's about gone.” He fought back a few tears.

“Mike?” said Pamela from the door. She sounded frustrated.

Mike turned around to see a strange, silver-haired woman and a man in purple-and-red armor standing behind her.

“I tried to tell them,” began Pamela.

“We understand you require medical assistance,” stated the man.

Mike stared at him.

“We are here to help,” said the woman.

“He says she's a doctor...of sorts,” said Pamela.

“It's alright,” said Mike quietly, “if they think they can help...” He turned his attention back to the strangely silver-haired woman. “Can you?”

“Yes.” She walked over and placed a hand on Mary's forehead. Mike noticed Mary's labored breathing return to normal. After a moment, the woman opened her eyes and looked at Mike. “I have...” She looked at the armored man.

“Mistress Sophie has stabilized your daughter,” said the man.

“We do not have much time,” continued Sophie. “She is, as your doctors said, dying. Her...body attacks itself. If I had known sooner, I could have helped more, but she is now beyond my skill.”

Mike frowned. “Then why...”

The man interrupted. “We know one other who can save your daughter's life. But you must trust us. We realize you have no reason to do so, other than that we didn't smite you also when we crushed Arminger. For now, that will have to suffice. You're a good man, Mike Havel, and we're not in the business of bringing the hammer down upon good men. Now, if you would, please bring your daughter and follow us. Sophie can only stabilize her for so long and there are limits even to her abilities.”

Mike eyed the man and the woman he called Sophie, then looked at Aaron.

“Mike,” said Aaron, “I've got nothing. You know that. I have no idea who they are, what they're talking about...save for having somehow beaten Arminger...what she...” He nodded at Sophie. “...just did, or how she did it, but something tells me they're the last and only chance she's...” He nodded at Mary. “...got. You should take it...whatever it is.”

“He's right,” said Pamela. “We can't wait for Signe. Whatever you're going to do, you'll have to do it now. They...” She indicated Sophie and the armored man with her. “...kind of make me nervous, but...I'm going to have to agree with Aaron. ”

“Besides,” added Aaron, “if they have enough clout to take out Portland, I'm not sure we want to be messing with them.”

“You got that right,” said Mike. He rose to his feet, threw back the covers and picked up his daughter. Even through his armor, he could tell she was still running a fever, though it seemed to be lower than it had been.

“What should I tell Signe when she gets here?” asked Aaron.

“Beats the shit out of me,” said Mike as he followed the two strangers out of the room going God-knew-where to do God-knew-what.

*****

Mike stepped out his front door, Mary in his arms and wrapped in a thick, woolen blanket. Pamela had succeeded in relieving him of his helm. Mike wasn't disappointed, really. Not only was it pretty much a foregone conclusion that all military risk within miles had practically evaporated, he still felt twitchy about the taxidermy bear head mounted on it.

No sooner had he stepped off the porch, than he came to a skidding halt. Three of those large animals—one of which wore what looked like titanium plate armor--stood in the drive. People were looking at them nervously, though the beasts themselves appeared relaxed. He couldn't be completely sure, though. He'd spent enough time around animals to be able to tell the difference between major moods—anger, fear, happiness, anxiety, and so forth. He supposed the same would be true even of the ones that stood before him.

“Don't worry,” said the armored man who'd come up behind him. Mike jumped imperceptibly. “They've offered to take us to the river.”

Mike looked at the man and blinked. “They've offered? The river?”

“We'll explain later,” replied the man. “The clock is ticking, as you say. Please...” He motioned in the direction of the animals. One of them took a couple of steps toward Mike and held out its fore-arms. “He'll carry the girl,” continued the man, “and you'll ride.”

Mike looked back and forth from man to beast. “What?”

“Just hand her to him,” said the man in a firm-yet-gentle tone.

Mike sensed that the man was well aware of Mike's emotional and mental state and somehow empathized with him. He tentatively handed Mary to the animal, which took her very gently, looking at her with what Mike could have sworn was compassion. Then it lowered itself to the ground and nodded its head rearward. Mike took the hint and climbed into its back. “How do you...?” he started to ask as the other two mounted their own animals.

“Don't even try,” interrupted the man as the animals stood up. “Just hang on. They know where we're going.”

Without warning, they all started moving and Mike did indeed have to hang on. They raced through town and out the gate, gaining speed as they hurtled down the gravel road, turning right onto Zena Road, lighting out toward the river. _Damn_ , thought Mike, _these things are FAST! Odd rhythm...quite unlike a horse...smooth, though. I wonder what Will would think of them. Anything we can ride AND fights like that...._

*****

Mike slipped off of his mount at the edge of the Willamette River. His feet hit the cobbles comprising a wide, rocky strip a half-mile southeast of the intersection of Zena and Wallace Roads. Sophie had already dismounted and stood on a large rock, making ululating sounds with a complex rising and falling pattern.

Mike took Mary from the animal he'd been riding. He could already tell her condition was deteriorating. Her breathing had again become labored and she was shivering. Mike was half-glad his daughter was in a coma. Otherwise, she'd be aware of the suffering she surely felt and he wasn't sure he could have borne it. Sophie cobble-hopped over to him, placed her hand on the girl's forehead, and frowned. Mary's labor eased again and the shivering lessened, but not to the degree it had right before their departure from the Havel-Larsson home. Then Sophie turned to the armored man and said something in a language Mike didn't understand. The man replied and a short conversation ensued.

“Sophie says she's reaching the limit of her skills. What she does requires a lot of effort. Her energies have already been taxed by Leihara's field surgery earlier and she still has much work to do back on the field. If they don't arrive soon...”

“Who are 'they,' precisely?” asked Mike.

“You will see,” said Sophie.

Mike wasn't sure he liked the sound of that, but he was quite decidedly out of options. Whomever it was they were expecting to arrive and whatever it was they were planning to do, he'd have to go with it. Watching his daughter die was not an option. He was sure Signe would be angry with him for simply taking off with Mary and a couple of strangers for as-yet-unrevealed purposes, but he also knew she'd be downright furious if he'd just let their daughter die. Never mind that he'd never forgive himself if he'd squandered an opportunity to help her.

“In the meantime,” said the man, “I believe the introductions have gone to the wayside. My name is Karl Fitzherbert. I'm a Firewalker...I believe you witnessed our handiwork this morning. This is Mistress Sophie Jenkins. She's a mage...an empathic healer, to be precise. This...” He gestured at one of the animals. “...is Lothela, Sonrak, and Klatun. That, I hope, will suffice for now. My great grandmother will likely expound on that and a great many other things at some point in the near future. That will be necessary if we are to be good neighbors to one another.”

“Neighbors?” said Mike.

“We will explain later,” said Karl. “In the meantime...” He broke off and looked out across the river, its surface grey with both cold and the reflection of the even grey-er sky.

“Oh,” said Sophie, “please do not call them fish. They find it highly insulting. In fact...if you wish them to help your daughter, do not say the word 'fish.'”

Mike raised an eyebrow. The whole arrangement was beginning to smell...well...fishy. “Why would I call them fish?”

“You will see,” said Sophie again, then added, “You...may not like it...but it will be better than death.”

Mike was about to reply when their conversation was interrupted by a disturbance in the river. He looked over to see three people sitting in the water about a dozen or so feet away where it was a couple of feet deep.

“Your Majesties...your Royal Highness,” said Karl, delivering a curt bow, “good morning, and welcome. Thank-you so much for responding to our call. Given the circumstances, I suggest we get straight to business, as it were. This is Mike Havel, the local king, and his daughter.” Before Mike could protest at being called a king, Karl continued. “Mike, this is Syrena, Philip, and their son Noah.”

One of them, a woman who was completely naked from the waist up, as near as Mike could tell, looked at him and Mary. “She is dying,” said the woman, the tone in her voice matching the sorrowful expression on her face. “Of course we will help.”

The threesome moved closer...swished was more like it, thought Mike. He wondered why they still hadn't stood up, let alone why they were swimming around in the chilly Willamette in the first place. His jaw dropped as they levered themselves up out of the water, settling gingerly upon a few large rocks just a few feet from where Mike stood. He wasn't sure he was seeing what he thought he was seeing. He blinked, shook his head sharply as though to clear it, blinked again and looked back at the trio.

The sight before him hadn't changed. Each one of them was human from head to just above waist level. From that point downward, their legs were fused together and their skin was covered with fishy-looking scales. The woman's were an opalescent pink, flushed with red, while the men's were shades of olive-green with blue markings. It was hard to see below the waterline, though Mike caught the occasional glimpse of large, forked fins intermittently breaking the surface.

Mike looked at Karl. “Are they...” He broke off, looked back at the trio, then back at Karl. “But...” he stammered. His mind, still reeling both from what he'd seen that morning and from his daughter's condition, was having trouble registering what his eyes were trying to tell it.

“Your eyes do not deceive you,” said Karl, “they're mer-folk. Yes, they do exist...and they've graciously offered to help. That's something that should _not_ be taken lightly.”

The woman reached up toward the girl. Mike moved to back up.

“It is alright,” said the woman, “I will not harm her.”

Mike paused, then stepped forward, letting the mermaid lay a hand on Mary's face. The woman sighed, then looked wordlessly into Mike's eyes. He was beginning to understand people's historical fascination with mermaids. She drew back a bit, then turned to her companions. Mike still wasn't that good with body language, but they seemed to be having a conversation without actually talking.

Mary began to twitch, drawing everyone's attention. Her little body spasmed violently several times. Her eyelids flew open and her eyes rolled upward. Her breathing accelerated, and then stopped altogether.

“Mary?” said Mike, suddenly oblivious to the others. “Mary!” He placed a finger on her neck, searching for a pulse. Feeling none, his own went through the roof, terror like none he'd ever known flooding through his body. “Oh, God,” he muttered. He laid her limp form on the nearest large, flat rock and prepared to administer CPR.

“No,” said Sophie sternly, “that will not be successful.”

“She's right,” said Karl, “it won't work. You know this.”

“She's dying!” protested Mike, visibly on the verge of tears.

“We know,” said Sophie.

“Mike,” said Karl, nodding toward the mer-folk.

Mike looked up to see the mermaid...Syrena...reaching out to him.

“Please,” she implored him, “there is still time, but not much. Her soul persists, but only for a few moments more. You must choose for her.”

Mike looked back to his little girl, whom he knew in his mind to be technically dead. His heart refused to let him believe it.

“You must choose _now ___,” said Sophie insistently.

Mike realized he had absolutely nothing more to lose. “Dammit,” he muttered, picking up Mary, her limbs dangling. He stepped awkwardly into the river, oblivious to the cold water pouring into his boots. “Can you really save her?” he said.

“You need only ask,” said Syrena.

“Whatever you're going to do,” he choked, as he thrust his daughter's limp, lifeless body into the mermaid's arms, “do it.”

Without another word, she quickly, but gently, took the girl, clutched her body to her breast, kissed her briefly on the mouth, and then slipped beneath the water, followed by the one Karl had called Philip.

“You won't regret it,” said Noah, who still sat there. “It will be difficult for both of you. Wait for us here. Your daughter will need you.” At that, he too vanished into the river.

Mike sat down heavily onto the nearest rock. His emotions bubbled up and he made no effort to hold them back. He let the tears flow and his body shake with a wave of sobs. He was barely aware of the conversation between Sophie and Karl and even less aware that it wasn't in English.

After a while, Mike stood unsteadily to his feet. He didn't know how long he'd been sitting there crying, but he was keenly aware that his rear end was completely numb. Sharp tingles up and down his legs and less-than-adequate control of them told him he'd been there long enough to cut off his circulation. He gazed at the sky, but the early March clouds obscured the sun, making solar time-telling unreliable at best. He doubted it could be much past noon. He turned and sloshed clumsily out of the river, his whole body feeling heavy like he'd never felt before.

“Mike?” said Karl.

Mike looked over at the man, who sat next to Sophie on a log near the tree-line, and just gazed blankly at him. The three large animals were reposing on its other side.

“Where are you going?” he continued, somehow sensing the Bear Lord's intention.

“Home,” said Mike dully.

“You should wait here,” said Sophie.

“You don't understand,” said Mike, some manner of his energy returning.

“What is it we don't understand?” said Karl.

“Signe...my wife...went to Corvallis to get help for Mary. She was supposed to be back already. I...I need to be there when she gets here.”

“You need to be _here_ when your daughter returns,” countered Karl. “Besides, what would you tell her? That you took your daughter to the river and gave her to a mermaid?”

“That's what happened.”

“I know that and you know that. Do you think she'd believe you? You barely did, even having seen them for yourself.”

“Yeah,” Mike admitted, “she's say I'd been bonked upside the head, or went delirious with grief.”

“You've trusted us thus far. Now believe me when I tell you that we have a lot of experience with what most people would consider to be impossible. That experience includes dealing with those people who insist that things like pyrokinesis, magic, and mermaids aren't real. You strike me as one of them.”

Mike considered this for a moment. “Well,” he said, “you're not wrong. I'm still not sure I believe it.”

“It has only begun,” said Karl.

Mike raised an eyebrow and Karl just smiled.

“Where did you say Signe had gone?” he asked.

“Corvallis.”

Karl closed his eyes. A minute later, he spoke, eyes still closed. “I'm detecting two large masses of people moving north from Corvallis. They are, at present, roughly halfway between there and the ruins of Monmouth.” He opened his eyes and looked back at Mike. “Assuming that's them, I estimate they should arrive by noon tomorrow. My great-grandmother would be able to tell you how many there are, how fast they're moving, what their genders are and what they ate for breakfast.”

Mike raised an eyebrow. “How would she know all that? For that matter, how do _you_ know that?”

“Come, sit down,” said Karl, indicating the log. “It may be a long wait and you'll be far more comfortable than you have been on that rock.”

“I'd rather pace,” said Mike.

“Suit yourself,” said Karl. He turned to Sophie and the two of them began to play some game that looked like some version of rock-paper-scissors. Karl looked back up at Mike, somehow sensing his curiosity. “It's called 'Rock-paper-scissors-lizard-Spock.'”

“What?” said Mike, a hint of laughter in his voice.

“In 'Rock-paper-scissors,' one can expect a tie roughly eighty percent of the time, given the limited number of possible outcomes,” explained Karl. “That's why we prefer 'Rock-paper-scissors-lizard-Spock.' It's fairly simple. Scissors cuts paper, paper covers rock, rock squashes lizard, lizard poisons Spock, Spock crushes scissors, scissors decapitates lizard, lizard eats paper, paper disproves Spock, Spock vaporizes rock and, as it always has, rock breaks scissors. Like the other version, it's an excellent time-passer, especially when one doesn't have some fiddly craft to do.” He and Sophie went back to it while Mike watched, chuckling a little and slowly shaking his head.  
After a time, Mike turned and began to pace. He soon lost track of time. At length, he was aware of one of the animals making some noises and he looked up to see Karl snickering a little.

“She says you are making her dizzy,” said Sophie.

Mike looked uneasily from Sophie to Karl, to each of the animals, then back to Sophie. “Yeah,” said Mike incredulously, “like some of my folks say, I've got some oceanfront property in Artemesia to sell ya.”

“You do not believe me,” said Sophie.

“The _animal_ says I'm making her dizzy?”

“Yes.”

Mike was suddenly aware that all three of the beasts seemed to be glaring at him.

“It might help to think of them as people with fur,” said Karl. “That's how it was with us. Once we realized that this isn't far from the truth, relations between us improved dramatically.”

“People with fur?” said Mike dubiously.

“Yes,” said Sophie.

Mike looked back and forth between them. “You're serious.”

“Yes,” repeated Sophie.

“You said earlier that they offered to bring us down here?”

“That is correct,” said Sophie.

“They severely dislike being ridden,” said Karl, “so if I were you, I'd bear that in mind. The fact that they've been allowing us to do so says a lot about their willingness to help make our forthcoming alliance and all we aim to accomplish here in the Willamette Valley come to fruition.”

Mike furrowed his brow. “Just...what _do_ you all want?”

Karl smiled. “Great-grandmother would like to hold a meeting with you all some time tomorrow afternoon. She'll go over it all then.”

“Do I get a preview or Cliff's notes or somethin'?”

“No. I'm not authorized. Look, our intent is not to make you nervous, though we do realize that comes with the territory, so to speak. You want to know what it was that we did out there...” He nodded in the direction of Larsdalen. “...and how we did it. We can tell you _what_ we do, but none of us, not even Great-grandmother or Master Howl, knows _how_ we do it and it's something that's been with us for a very long time. Suffice it to say that it's all very complicated.”

Mike stepped over and sat down on the log. He looked at the river and then back at Karl. “We apparently have time,” he said bluntly. “Don't we?”

“I'm not sure.”

“How long will it take for them to...do whatever it is that they're doing?”

“It will take as long as it takes,” said Sophie.

“Do either of you even know _what_ they're doing?”

“Yes.”

Mike looked at Sophie. She remained silent. “Well?” Mike demanded.

“You must wait and see.”

Mike rolled his eyes. “Great,” he said sarcastically.

*****

Mike watched the mesmerizing water of the Willamette slide by. Every so often, a piece of woody debris, or something that looked like it had broken off the jam on the Salem bridge, drifted past. Eventually, the light began to fade and Mike was aware that he was growing restless. A drip of water pinged off his shoulder cop...then another...and another until it was quite obviously raining.

Suddenly, a disc of dull-red fire erupted overhead and the drips turned into hisses. Mike started.

“Relax,” said Karl. “Surely you don't think our powers are useful _only_ for destruction, do you?”

Mike stared at the fire. It seemed to rotate and was just as mesmerizing as the river or an actual campfire. He slid off the log and leaned up against it, still keeping an eye on the fire over their heads. After a while, he nodded off to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Willamette River  
March 10, CY 9, 2021 AD

Mike Havel awoke with a start. He noticed two things. First, it was much warmer than he'd have expected. Second, he was stiff all over. He looked over his shoulder and remembered the log that served as a back-rest. He'd obviously fallen asleep against it, his armor keeping the knots from poking him in the back. Still, armor was unequivocally not intended for sleeping.

He yawned, then slowly clambered to his feet and stretched. His armor, while designed to have a good range of motion, wasn't terribly conducive to morning stretches. The previous day's events came flooding back to his memory and he felt a fresh surge of panic wash over his mind. He forced it down with an effort of will, only to have the emotional void replaced with sorrow.

“Good morning,” said Karl, stepping out of the trees.

“If you say so,” said Mike dubiously. He looked around. “Where's...uh...Sophie?”

“She returned to the field. Her services are sorely needed.”

Mike raised an eyebrow. Then he heard the sound of softy-splashing water behind him. He started to turn, expecting to see a beaver or a nutria, or maybe a duck. Before he could, a familiar voice startled him.

“Papa!”

Mike whirled around, his heart leaping into his throat. He saw his daughter sitting in the water just a few feet away. He blinked and shook his head, just to be sure he wasn't imagining things. “M...Mary?”

“Papa, I'm all better!” she blurted cheerfully.

Mike waded out into the chilly water as the mer-folk rose up behind Mary. He rushed to his daughter and dropped to his knees, taking her in his arms and hugging her tightly as though he'd never again let her go.

“Papa,” said Mary, “your armor's poking me.”

Mike released his grip and pulled back a little, moving his hands to take her shoulders. It was only then that he noticed she was naked, but he paid that no mind. She also didn't seem to mind the cold water, but that too went largely unheeded in the face of his enormous relief at seeing her alive and well. “I'm sorry, sweetheart,” he said, a tear of joy coming to his eye. “I'm just so glad you're alive.”

“Me, too,” she replied.

Mike looked over at the mer-folk. “Look, whatever you did...thank-you.”

“You are welcome,” said Syrena.

“I suppose something like this should cost me my first-born, but seeing as how Mary _is_ my...” he trailed off.

“No, no,” said Philip. “You don't owe us anything. We're just glad to help. No father should bury his child.” There was something in Philip's voice that told Mike he knew a thing or two about that. “But if you need any assistance caring for her, we'd be happy to remain here in the river for a few days...in case you have any questions...which I think you will.”

Mike raised an eyebrow. “Questions about what?” he asked. He suddenly had a bad feeling about something and he wasn't even sure what that something was.

“Your daughter.”

“What...sort of questions?”

“The same sorts I had when I was first in her position.”

“What?”

“I wasn't always a merman,” said Philip casually. “I had to get used to that.”

Mike looked sharply down at Mary, who giggled a little. Then he slowly looked back at Philip, Syrena, and Noah. “What,” he said slowly, “did you do?”

“We healed her,” said Syrena.

Mike spied some movement and looked back at Mary, then followed her gaze to his left. His heart skipped a beat and he froze. Not a yard from where Mary sat, a fishy-looking tail protruded from the water's surface. It was forked and about Mary's shoulder-width, the fin and the scales on the tail that held it a muted peacock-blue with green markings and small, brick-red flecks. Mike stared at the fin for a moment, then followed the tail with his eyes. Peering into the water, still dark without the cloud-blocked sun, he could see, though barely, that the tail was connected to his daughter.

He blinked again, still unsure his mind understood what his eyes were seeing. His jaw dropped and he gaped at Mary, then he slowly looked back at the mer-folk. “No,” he said incredulously, “you...you didn't.”

“It was necessary,” said Philip.

“We do not know why,” said Syrena, “but it is the way it is.”

“Like we said,” added Noah, “you're bound to have questions only we can answer.”

Mike slowly exhaled. “Damn right,” he said finally.

“Papa?” said Mary. Mike looked down at her. Concern, worry, and fear were written all over her face, some that of a child, some seeming well beyond her eight years. “Don't you like my tail?”

He didn't know what to say. More tears rose up in his eyes.

Mary let her tail sink back into the water. “Papa? What's wrong? Please don't cry.” She seemed about to cry herself.

Mike took her in his arms and held her gently to himself, careful this time to avoid poking her with his armor. “I'm sorry, honey,” he said softly. “I'm not upset. It's just...shocking, I guess.” He paused. “What the hell am I going to tell your mother?”

“I dunno. Papa, can we go home now?”

He pulled back and looked into his daughter's eyes. “Yeah, honey...I think.” He looked up at the mer-folk. “Can she?”

“Do you have water for her?” said Syrena.

“Uh...”

“Put me in the pond,” said Mary.

“What, sweetheart?”

“Put me in the pond,” she repeated. “The bathtub's not big enough to share.”

Mike looked up at the sky and sighed deeply. “I don't believe I'm doing this,” he said quietly, “I don't believe this is happening.” Then he looked back at the mer-folk. “Look, I have a mess to clean up back home involving the aftermath of an invasion. It could take a while, so I don't know how long it'll be before I can come back here. And my wife's supposed to back any time now...could be already. She'll be worried sick about...both of us.”

“We will wait,” said Syrena.

Mike knelt down and picked up his daughter. Her tail was unexpectedly slippery and he was having trouble holding onto her.

“Papa...I'm slipping!” said Mary in alarm, as her tail slid back and forth on her father's arm. “Put me down, please!”

Mike did as requested, nearly dropping her in the process. He remembered the blanket he'd used to carry her to the river. “Um...Karl, would you toss me that blanket?”

“Sure,” he said. He stepped over to the log, picked up the blanket, waded out and handed it to Mike.

“Thanks,” said Mike. He opened the blanket and turned to wrap his daughter. She abruptly swished backward, eying him suspiciously. “What?” he asked in reply. “Honey, you're too...er...slippery. I can't hold onto you otherwise.”

“That will dry her out,” explained Philip.

“Her tail must not dry out,” added Syrena.

Miked looked from them to his daughter to the blanket and back again. “Would this work?” he said as he thrust it into the water.

“Yes,” said Syrena.

The felted wool took longer than usual to soak up water and Mike ignored the numbing effect the river was having on his hands. When he felt satisfied, he held it out toward Mary. “Is this better?”

Mary swished over and held her hand out to feel the waterlogged fabric. “Yes,” she said after a moment, “much.”

Mike plunged the blanket back under the water and Mary rolled onto it so he could pick her up. The tips of her fin lobes still protruded from the end of the blanket. He looked down into her smiling face and it seemed to him that she was having far too much fun. “I still have no idea what I'm going to tell your mother.”

“Me neither,” she replied.

He waded over to shore and the animal...what was his name, Sonrak...who'd brought him stepped out from the trees and reached for Mary. Both she and Mike recoiled a little.

“It's alright,” said Karl. Mike and Mary looked at him. “Don't worry, Mary, he won't hurt you.” He looked at Mike. “Go, take care of your family. I have a few things to discuss with their Majesties. Again, he knows where you're going and don't try to steer him.”

Mike let the creature take his daughter in its forearms before clambering up onto its back himself. “It's okay, sweetheart,” he said to his daughter, “they wouldn't have gone to all the trouble to save your live only to do something else to you.” It struck him that he actually believed it himself.

“Um...okay,” she said tentatively.

At that, the Sonrak strode away from the shore and back toward Larsdalen.


	3. Chapter 3

East of Zena Road crest, Eola Hills  
March 10, CY 9, 2021 AD

Signe Havel rode alongside Peter Jones at the head of his division of the Corvallis column. They hadn't quite made sight of the open fields near Larsdalen that Jones, Signe, and nearly every other division commander expected to be the main field of engagement. Oddly, they should have been able to hear the noise of combat by now. After all, battles weren't quiet, even pre-gunpowder ones. That worried Signe.

Despite repeated objections by every senior officer, the Bear Lady insisted on riding close to the front with the doctor not far behind. She wanted to be able to make a break for the gate as soon as possible. No one knew if they'd be able to get in. The whole wall could already be invested and if the citadel itself were overrun.... Signe tried not to think about that. The only thought on her mind was getting her daughter the life-saving help she desperately needed.

In spite of the light rain the night before, the Corvallis banner—orange with angry-looking beaver head—fluttered slightly in the light breeze rising from the valley.

After what seemed like an eternity, the field crept incrementally into view. The sight was not what Signe had expected. They were still a mile from the junction of the gravel road leading to the Larsdalen gate and already she felt a knot in her stomach. People milled about all over the place. Rows of what looked like dead bodies were laid out near the road. Dozens of strange, bipedal animals, most of them near the size of draft horse, flitted about.

“Hold up!” barked Peter, and the column—which had been moving along at a good clip--came to a literally screeching halt as bicycle brakes squealed against their rims while stopping the weight of rider, armor and weaponry. “Dear Mother of God!” exclaimed Peter after a few moments. He didn't think he had to explain what should be plain to every veteran fighter.

Signe pointed to a figure galloping in their direction. As it closed, she could make out the tree-and-stars of the Dunedain Rangers. Soon the rider reigned up in front of them.

“Mae-govannen,” she said amiably. “Major Jones...Lady Bear.”

Signe would recognize her sister anywhere, even under the helm. “Must you call me that, sis?”

“While acting in my capacity of Hiril of the Dunedain...yes.”

Signe rolled her eyes.

“Your arrival is fortuitous,” continued Astrid, “but you're too late. The battle is over...has been since yesterday.”

Signe felt more fear rise up inside her.

“But we could use your help with prisoner and casualty detail,” added Astrid.

“Bastard,” growled Peter. “Wants us to guard our own people.”

“You misunderstand, Major,” said Astrid. “It is not our people who need guarding.”

Peter and Signe both blinked at Astrid.

“You mean...we...won?” said Signe.

“There seems to be some disagreement on that,” replied the Hiril. “Lady Juniper says we won, Lord Bear says the others won, and Abbott Dmowsky insists that no one truly wins a fight. Suffice it to say that Portland lost.”

“What?” said Peter. “How? I thought we were woefully outnumbered?”

“Oh, we were,” said Astrid. “Hopelessly so. But we had...um...some help.”

“What kind of help?” said Signe.

“Powerful help.”

“You're doing it again, sis,” said Signe, “going all...mystical and stuff.”

“Maybe, maybe not. Truth be told...we really have no idea who they are. They simply appeared out of nowhere and championed the field. Word is that they want to hold court this afternoon. We haven't spoken to Lord Bear about it...seeing as how it's his territory...but the rest of us are more or less smiling and nodding.”

“Where _is_ Mike?” asked Signe.

“Um,” said Astrid, looking back over the field, “I'm not sure, but I think he was seen not an hour or so ago.”

“Where?”

“Heading back into the citadel, I think. There were murmurs that he was riding one of those...well, we have no idea what those are either. And it was carrying a large bundle.”

Signe's heart leapt into her throat. “Oh, God...” she squeaked.

“Get going,” said Peter impatiently. “The question of your safety is apparently moot and you don't need my permission anyway.” He turned around as Signe and the doctor took off at full gallop. The last thing she heard was the Major giving orders for clean-up detail as per Astrid's direction.

*****

Signe was dismounting before her horse had even slowed to a trot. She literally leapt off, nearly losing her footing on the gravel, before vaulting into the house. She barely noticed Aaron Rothman hobbling out of the living room as she sprinted for the stairs.

“Uh...Signe?” he said, trying to get her attention.

“Not now, Aaron!” she barked as she bounded up the stairs. She'd almost forgotten about the doctor, who really had little chance of keeping up with her.

Signe swung around the corner, using the upper end of the stair rail as an assist, and then sprinted down the hall toward the open door of Mary's room. She skidded to a stop just inside the threshold and froze.

The bed her daughter had occupied every night since she and her twin sister were old enough to have their own was empty and made-up, the covers, pillows, and two stuffed animals arranged like they always were. Only...there was no Mary. Signe stood there, blinking, trying to wrap her mind around any of several possible explanations, all of which boiled down to one of two things. Either Mary had miraculously recovered on her own and was up and about somewhere, or.... The more Signe tried not to consider the unthinkable, the more it weighed on her mind.

Her mother's intuition told her that her daughter had not just spontaneously improved and that something very bad had happened. That realization jarred her mind like a hammer on an anvil and she felt herself breaking. She slumped against the door frame.

She opened her mouth, but at first, she could only make weak, squeaky sounds. Then, “No,” she said softly. “No,” more loudly. “Nooo!” Now it was more of a wail and the tears began to well up in her eyes as her legs went wobbly.

The Corvallan doctor stepped up behind her and took her weight as best he could. “Signe,” he said, trying to stay calm, “I'm so sorry.”

“Signe?” called Aaron from downstairs. “Signe!”

Signe allowed the doctor to help her back to the stairs and then slowly down to the ground floor.

Aaron helped her sit down on the bottom step. “Signe?”

She looked up at him through her tears, fighting to focus through her grief.

“I...don't know for sure what happened. I don't even know if she died.”

“Wh...what?” croaked Signe, an ember of hope threatening to flare up.

“Mike took her with...”

Signe stiffened. “Mike? Where is he?”

“That's what I'm trying to tell you. He and two others took her...well, actually, I don't know where...something about the river. But they seemed to think there was someone who could help. Not sure who or how, though. She was in very bad shape, Signe, I won't lie to you. And she _was_ dying, but...from what I've heard, these new friends of ours...if they _are_ friends...well, I don't understand it...”

“Aaron!” she snapped. “You're babbling.”

Aaron sighed. “We'll just have to wait until he gets back.”

“I...I can't,” said Signe, still heaving from her waning sobs.

“Well, I don't have any better ideas. The whole town and the field beyond it is in chaos. You should sit tight.”

Rapid footsteps on the gravel grabbed their attention. Signe looked up as the door opened and Mike barged in, still wearing most of his armor. He held his gauntlets and gorget in one hand and was undoing the strapping of his breast plate with the other.

“Mike!” she yelped, then shot up to wrap her arms around him, the tears once again welling up in her eyes. “I was so worried...and Mary...” She pulled back. “Aaron said she was dying...and you took her and...” She burst into sobs once more.

Mike tossed his armor bits onto a chair and took his wife in his arms. “It's alright,” he said, stroking her blonde hair. “I'm fine...Mary's still alive.”

Signe pulled back, sniffing. “Really?”

Mike nodded.

“Where is she?”

“Uh...she's in the pond.”

“Oh, good, that's... _in_ the pond?”

“Yeah. It's...complicated. But she's fine...more or less.”

“More or less? Mike, you're scaring me. Please don't.”

“Sorry. You're...well, you wouldn't believe me if I told you. Hell, I barely believe it myself.”

“What are you talking about? I want to see Mary!”

“Can I get out of my armor first?”

Signe nodded, then helped her husband. Once Mike had been relieved of his armor and padding, and piled it in a corner to be cleaned later, he pulled on a pair of rubber boots and led his wife out the door, Aaron and the doctor right behind them.

*****

The mill pond had been expanded from the livestock watering hole it had been before the Change in order to run the large water wheels that drove the various machinery Ken Larsson and his underlings had designed and built in the following years. The small reservoir had been stocked with warm-water fish like yellow perch, bluegill, and catfish shortly after its expansion. The intent was to provide an additional and reliable food source to supplement the usual beef and mutton. The idea hadn't quite developed as envisioned and the fishing was more often a source of recreation, but still occasionally filled the odd void between slaughterings.

Signe's heart threatened to jump out of her throat as she approached the small dock that jutted out into the pond. Everything else faded out of existence as a pair of small, tow-headed figures resolved themselves from the wooded pylons. She quickened her pace, darting around her husband to rush toward her daughters, her footsteps echoing on the planks.

“Mary?” she called.

Both girls looked in her direction and waved. “Mama!” they called back in unison.

Signe hurried forward, tousling Ritva on the head before dropping onto her knees in front of Mary. She'd always been able to tell them apart just by their faces. She had no idea how, other than that she was their mother. She took Mary's face between her palms and felt tears of joy trickling down her face. Then she wrapped her arms around the girl and hugged her tightly.

“Mama? Why are you crying?”

“I thought I'd lost you,” whispered Signe. After a moment, she drew back to once again look her daughter in the face.

“That's silly. I'm right here.”

“I know you are, honey. I meant I thought...I thought you....”

“You thought I died,” Mary said, finishing her mother's sentence.

Signe nodded.

“Mama?” said Ritva, tugging on her mother's sleeve.

“Not now, honey,” she said without looking. Then to Mary. “Mary, you're all wet. We'd better get you dried off before you get sick...” She gulped. “...again.”

“That's okay,” said Mary. “I'm fine...really.”

“You won't be if we don't get you inside and warmed up and I am _not_ going to almost lose you again,” said Signe decisively.

“But I'm not s'posed to get dry.”

“What?”

Mary lifted her tail, which had been draped over the edge of the dock, and waved her broad, forked fin. “I have a tail now. Do you like it?”

Signe blinked. She wasn't sure what to make of it. Why in the world had someone gone to all the trouble to make a tail--a mermaid tail, from the look of it--for her daughter? Whoever it was had gone to extraordinary lengths, for it looked quite realistic. “It's...it's very nice.”

“Syrena gave it to me.”

“Who's Syrena, sweetheart?”

“She's the mermaid queen.”

“Is she, now?”

Mary nodded.

“Well, now, little miss mermaid,” said Signe amiably, “we're going to take your tail off you and get you inside where it's dry and warm.”

“No, Mama,” said Mary worriedly, “I can't.”

“Young lady,” said Signe sternly, “I know you've just gone through life and death. But I'm still your mother and you need to mind me.”

“I know, but it's my tail,” Mary protested. “It doesn't come off.”

“Mary?” said Signe flatly. “You can put the tail back on later when the weather warms up,” she said as she reached for the line between skin and scales. It was then that she noticed how fine they were, as though whoever had made it had literally cut the skin off of a fish. It was remarkably good work. She probed for an edge, feeling the seamless transition of normal human skin and mucilaginous fishy skin.

“Mama, don't...”

Signe kept probing, pushing and trying to tug. “How's this stuck on you?”

“Mama, that hurts...”

Signe finally dug her fingernails into the line of scales.

“Ow! Ow! Ow!” Then Mary hissed violently. Signe started, drawing her hand away from Mary's tail as the girl flipped over on her front side and into a bent-armed aggressive posture. Signe yelped, scooting back a foot. Mary's eyes had turned a shade of yellow, her canine teeth had elongated, and she was hissing like a snake. Signe stared at her. After a moment, Mary's face returned to normal.

“I'm sorry, Mama. I didn't mean to hiss at you. But you were hurting me.”

“Wha...wha...what _are_ you?” Signe stammered.

Mary relaxed and cocked her head inquisitively. “I'm a mermaid,” she said in a tone that said she thought it should be blindingly obvious.

“What?”

“I'm a mermaid,” repeated Mary.

“Who are you and what have you done with my daughter?” Signe growled.

“Mama, it's _me_!”

Signe shook her head slowly, the feeling of dread returning. “I don't know who or what you are, but you're not my daughter.”

Mary looked like she was about to start crying.

Ritva started to move toward her sister, when Signe stopped her. “Ritva, honey, you stay away from her.”

“Why?” said Ritva.

“That's not your sister.”

Ritva looked at her mother, then at Mary, then back at her mother.

“Um,” said Mike from behind Signe, “yeah, she is.”

Signe rose shakily to her feet, then rounded on her husband. “What the hell did you do to her?!” she demanded.

“I saved her life,” said Mike defensively. “Well, someone else did, but I brought her to them.”

“How do you know that's Mary?”

“Who else would she be?”

“Mike, she's a...a mermaid!”

“Yeah? So? And she's the prettiest...mermaid...we've ever seen.”

“Are you crazy? She's the _only_ mermaid we've ever seen!”

“Are you telling me you'd sooner believe invasion of the body snatchers than our daughter turning into a mermaid?”

“Mermaids don't exist!”

“I do too exist!” retorted Mary.

“But it's not possible!” Signe protested.

“Neither was the Change, remember?” Mike countered. “And you didn't see what...those other people did yesterday. That was impossible, too. Look, Mary was dying. Just ask Aaron. I took her to the river yesterday, handed her to a mermaid and when she returned this morning, she was a mermaid, too. I have no idea how they did it any more than I know how the Change happened. It just is.”

“Hey, Mike!” called Eric from the end of the dock. He jogged over, his armor clanking. “Mike, I...” He trailed off as he noticed his sister and nieces. “Um...what's going on?”

“Hi, Uncle Eric!” said the girls.

“Hi. I..uh...see you're all better. What's with the tail?”

“I'm a mermaid,” said Mary.

“I see,” said Eric dubiously.

“You don't believe me, do you?”

“Not really, no.”

“Neither does Mama.”

“Your mother's a smart woman.”

“Yeah, but she still doesn't believe me.”

“Um...Eric?” said Mike, “It's real.”

“What's real?”

“The tail. Mary's an actual mermaid.”

Eric looked at Mike as though he'd lost it. “Are you sure you didn't take a blow to the head out there?”

“Humans,” muttered Mary. Without warning, she hopped off the dock and landed in the water with a splash.

“No!” Signe shrieked.

Everyone, including Mike, rushed to the edge. Eric started stripping down.

“Eric,” said Mike, “don't bother. It would take you too long to get out of armor anyway.”

Mary surfaced, bobbing oddly in the water. She cocked her head inquisitively. “Uncle Eric? Were you going to jump in and save me?”

“Uh...yeah,” said Eric.

Mary ducked under the surface. A few moments later, she erupted from it, water flying everywhere, then landed awkwardly on the dock. When she'd righted herself, she brushed a few strings of her pale hair out of her eyes and looked up at Eric. “You're silly,” she said.

“She...she's...” stammered Eric.

“That's what I just told you,” said Mike, “she's a mermaid.”

Eric rubbed his jaw pensively. “Well,” he said, “I guess we can tell them apart now.”

Signe let out an utterance of frustration and smacked her brother upside the head.

“Ow!” he said. “Cut that out!”

“Both of you cut it out!” said Mike, trying to both keep the edge out of his voice and defuse the situation, niether of which he was doing very successfully.

“Stop it!” blurted Mary. “Stop fighting! Don't blame Papa. He helped keep me from dying. I'm okay!” Everyone stopped and looked at her. After a moment, she shifted position, crossed her arms across her chest and continued. “Okay, so it's weird bein' a mermaid. But I'm fine with it. It's better'n bein' dead. I don't wanna be dead. So be happy, okay?”

Everyone blinked a couple of times. “You know,” said Eric finally, “Astrid's going to implode when she sees you.”

“Huh?” said Mary.

Signe sighed. “I think he means she's going to squee all over you.”

“Oh,” said Mary. “Cuz I'm a mermaid now, right?” She giggled at the thought of her aunt losing all composure in her excitement. “Yeah, Aunt Astrid's funny that way, isn't she?”

“Yeah, she is,” said Mike. He looked back to Eric. “So what was it you were about to tell me before you got...side-tracked?”

“Oh, right,” said Eric. “Those newcomers want to hold court this afternoon.”

“They want to do what, now?” said Mike, clearly confused.

“They want to hold court,” repeated Eric.

“As in, judge, jury, and executioner?”

“No, I think as in that Medieval kings and queens stuff. They say they have some business they want to conduct...something to do with public announcements relating to yesterday's battle. They want us all to process ceremonially...all that stuff that's been making you roll your eyes for the last ten years.”

Mike rolled his eyes, as if on cue. “Great,” he said sarcastically. “Where did they say they want us and when do they want us there?”

“Wait,” said Signe, “since when do you take orders from others?”

“You mean besides you?”

“Ha, ha,” said Signe drily.

“Since I saw them wipe the walls with Arminger's army, that's when. They don't seem to be pissed at us and I aim to keep it that way. I have a ton of questions and no answers and maybe this court thing will answer one or two of them.”

“They want to start around noon, down near Zena Road,” said Eric. “Oh, and they want everyone there...no exceptions. And they want our whole family to process...including Mary.”

Mike looked down at his mermaid daughter, then back at Erik. “But she can't walk and carrying her is...awkward.”

“I think they have a solution for that, too. They seem to have thought of pretty damned much everything, Mike. It's...impressive.”

“Alright, fine,” said Mike after a moment. “Tell them we'll be there.”

Erik nodded and trotted off.

Mike exhaled heavily. Something told him his life and his world were about to become even stranger, if that was at all possible.

**Author's Note:**

> Mary's illness is not something that occurs anywhere in the books. I've also likely taken some liberties with the real-world nature of autoimmune disorders.


End file.
